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Sri Lanka dares to hope for harmony
Sydney Morning Herald - May 2, 2009
Matt Wade, Colombo – It is not necessary to visit the front line of Sri Lanka's civil war to witness the manpower at the disposal of the army.
The dusty tracks at Nilaveli – a beach resort on the north-east coast where journalists can go with a military escort – provide a glimpse of the vast military machine established to defeat the Tamil Tiger rebels.
Even there, about 60 kilometres from the fighting, heavily armed soldiers are stationed at half-kilometre intervals, platoons patrol the roads and recurring checkpoints, ringed by razor wire, restrict the passage of vehicles.
When the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam began the bloody campaign for a separate homeland in 1983 they faced a poorly equipped army of about 6000 men. Now they confront a high-tech fighting force of more than 230,000.
Sri Lanka has a much higher ratio of military personnel to population than India or even Pakistan, making it the most militarised country in a region bristling with weapons.
Military spending has surged to 5 per cent of gross domestic product and soaks up about 20 per cent of the Government's budget.
"In a quarter of a century it has been transformed from a country with a small parade-ground military to one of the world's best combat-prepared armies," said Iqbal Athas, a military analyst in Colombo.
Sri Lanka's bloated military, one of the distortions of a 26-year civil war that has killed as many as 100,000 people, including almost 6500 over the past three months, is on the brink of achieving its goal.
The popular President, Mahinda Rajapaksa, says the Tigers will be routed any day now. Their defeat will give Mr Rajapaksa a rare opportunity to forge a lasting change in a deeply divided nation. But to do that he must somehow win over the traumatised and disenchanted Tamil minority.
"We have to do a lot of peace building and bridge building between our communities," said Hiranthi Wijemanne, a consultant to Sri Lanka's Commissioner General of Rehabilitation. "We are a battered nation and, frankly, it's going to be difficult."
More than 200,000 internally displaced people, mostly Tamils, are living in guarded camps called "welfare villages" in the north of the country. The refugees are being screened by authorities to try to weed out Tiger fighters. Another 50,000 civilians are surviving in appalling conditions inside a small patch of land still occupied by the rebels.
The Government says it aims to resettle about 80 per cent of those displaced by year's end and follow this up with spending on infrastructure and development projects.
However, this will be an expensive task at a time when the economy, already lumbering under the weight of the military, has been hit by the global slump. Colombo is already in negotiation with the International Monetary Fund for a $US1.9 billion ($2.6 billion) loan to shore up to foreign reserves.
By ignoring recent international appeals to stop fighting, Sri Lanka has also risked alienating some big Western donors who could normally have been relied upon to help out.
Even if the Government achieves its promise of resettlement, the provision of humanitarian aid and reconstruction will not solve the political problems that have underpinned the war.
The Tigers started fighting for a homeland because they believed Tamils, who make up 18 per cent of the population, had been discriminated against by a governments dominated by the majority Sinhalese.
"The problems the people of the north and the east have been enduring for decades are ultimately political in nature," said Donald Steinberg of the International Crisis Group. "They require a careful, democratic and inclusive political response."
Tens of thousands of Tamils who have lived in Tiger-controlled areas have in effect been cut off from the rest of the country for decades.
"Those born in the north after 1983 may never have seen a Sinhalese person in their life," said Dr Wijemanne. Many cannot speak Sinhalese or English, adding to their isolation.
The Tigers' tactic of eliminating their political opponents has also left the minority population with weak and divided political leadership.
Bhavani Fonseka, a human rights lawyer at a Colombo think tank, the Centre for Policy Alternatives, said that in the process of winning the war, freedoms necessary for winning the peace have been badly damaged.
"There is anxiety about saying anything critical against the security forces or against the Government. Anyone seen as being critical or questioning is seriously considered a traitor or a terrorist.
"Many people feel what is being done is OK because it's in the name of defeating terrorism, but what they forget is that winning the war does not deal with the root causes of the conflict."
Ms Fonseka said the defeat of terrorism should herald a period in which civil rights are enhanced and freedom of speech encouraged, especially for Tamils.
"Instead what we are seeing in Sri Lanka is a shrinking space for dissent and alternative voice." Earlier this year there was a series of attacks on journalists, including the murder of a prominent newspaper editor, Lasantha Wickrematunga.
Mano Ganesan, an outspoken Tamil politician from Colombo, fears Tamils will be more vulnerable after the defeat of the Tigers.
"I think this war is being waged not only against separatist terrorism but also against Tamil political aspirations," he said.
"Tamil people here were unhappy yesterday, we are unhappy today and quite frankly we feel more vulnerable than ever. I don't see any positive side for tomorrow."
Mr Rajapaksa must find a way to deal with the sense of alienation that allowed the Tigers to wage such a long secessionist struggle. Having invested so much in winning the war, can Sri Lanka do what it takes to make peace?
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